


5 Times Connor Got Gavin Coffee

by ineffable_killjoy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Awkwardness, Coffee, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gavin is bad at feelings, I Tried, M/M, Post-Canon, Redemption, Swearing, excessive use of the f-word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffable_killjoy/pseuds/ineffable_killjoy
Summary: And one time Gavin tried to return the favour.





	5 Times Connor Got Gavin Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to contribute to this ship and I hadn't seen a 5+1 coffee fic yet and I felt like I needed to remedy that. I wrote this all during finals week and contemplated posting it for another two weeks because I wasn't satisfied with it and I'm still not completely sure it's decent but I'm tired and will probably regret this in the morning :)
> 
> So yeah please enjoy?

1:

The first time, Connor was still a machine. Not yet deviant, still loyal to his programming. Regardless of the fact, there was no necessity for him to have acquiesced to Detective Reed’s orders. Technically, he only had to answer to Lieutenant Anderson, and even that was secondary to his primary objective of hunting deviants in the most efficient manner possible. However, Connor figured it was better to appease the antagonistic detective by following instructions. He was not afraid of conflict, but it would slow down his investigation.

So Connor turned and made his way rather stiffly to the coffee machine. His brow furrowed slightly out of sight of the detective, and his LED flashed yellow before he forced himself to return to his normal state. Detective Reed, much like the first time he had hurled insults at Connor, had once again managed to provoke a reaction, no matter how slight. Connor didn’t like it in the least.

He was unsure as to how Detective Reed liked his coffee, so he decided not to add anything. Connor turned and was faced with the detective’s smug expression. His arms were crossed over his chest and his seemingly permanent sneer was ever in place.

Connor held out his hand.

Detective Reed almost casually pushed his hand aside. Thankfully, he hadn’t done it forcefully enough to cause any spillage. Despite that, Connor still felt  _something_ shoot through him at the response. It was unfamiliar and lightning hot and he immediately ran a quick diagnosis of his system. Nothing was reported to be out of place.

“Do yourself a favour,” the detective growled, jabbing a finger into Connor’s sternum. “Stay outta my way.”

 

* * *

2:

“Detective Reed,” said a familiar voice over his shoulder.

Gavin whirled around in his swivel chair and scowled at the owner of the voice. “The fuck do you want, dipshit?”

The android stood stiffly, holding one of the paper cups from the break room in ~~his~~ its right hand. When Gavin made eye contact with ~~him~~ it, the plastic prick forced a smile on ~~his~~ _its_ face. It looked more like a grimace.

What ~~an adorable~~ a fucking idiot.

“Since I have been allowed to work with the DPD after the revolution, I thought it prudent to improve my relations with coworkers. Would you like some coffee?” The android offered his hand uncertainly, probably expecting rejection.

Well, Gavin was never one to disappoint. “You can take your coffee and shove it up your ass,” he retorted, shoving the peace offering out of his face.

Instead of looking resigned and backing off, ~~Connor~~ the android looked extremely surprised and a little bit... indignant?

“Excuse me?” he asked a tad sharply. “Up my… ass?”

Gavin gave the android a blank look. The fuck? “Yeah, up your ass! What the hell is your problem?”

The android made a confused little noise, his forehead wrinkling and the light on the side of his head blinking yellow. Wasn’t that supposed to mean he was processing or some shit?

“I'm afraid that I was not designed to facilitate -- oh. Oh, I see.” And now the prick looked embarrassed. Was he blushing? And, more importantly, was he blushing  _blue?!_

Holy shit, Gavin needed to ~~kiss~~ _punch_ the befuddled expression off the plastic asshole’s face. What a fucking idiot. “My apologies, Detective Reed. Your phrasing caught me off guard. Do not worry, I have searched it up and added the idiom to my mental database. It won’t happen again.”

Dammit. The android had never been exposed to a ‘shove it up your ass’ expression? Holy. Shit. Gavin wished he didn’t find it endearing.

“Uh -- yeah. Whatever. Um.”

Ah, awkward silence. Gavin’s oldest and closest friend.

“I’ll be going now, detective.”

“Yep, okay, fuck off, bye.”

Fucking. Androids.

 

* * *

3:

Connor waited at his desk with a steaming cup of coffee, idly scanning through the many files of android-human conflict. Since the revolution, an influx of android-related crimes had cropped up -- mostly hate crimes against the androids’ newfound freedom. It kept Connor and Hank in a constant state of business, since the evacuation of Detroit had left the police department woefully understaffed. Sure, officers were slowly returning, but it was taking time for humans to become comfortable with the idea of cohabiting with an entirely new intelligent being. The coffee cooling next to him as he worked was for Hank, since the lieutenant was usually late and would often enter the building in a disgruntled mood after having forgotten to pick up decent coffee. Apparently, his partner was not a “morning person” and the “shitty-ass station coffee was better than nothing”.

Just as he finished scanning the new files, his phone rang. Connor didn’t need a phone, as he could contact anyone with a mere thought, but Hank had insisted. He appreciated the lieutenant's kindness, even if Connor didn’t require such things as phones or new clothes. It was heartwarming that someone would care enough for him to invest money toward his physical possessions.

Connor glanced at the screen. It was Hank. “Hello? Lieutenant Anderson? Is everything alright?”

Hank’s gruff voice answered from the other end. “How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Hank, none of that Lieutenant shit.”

Connor smiled despite himself. “Of course, Hank. Your voice seems to have a rasp and is lower than usual. Are you ill, Hank?”

Right on cue, Connor heard distant coughing from the other end of the line. “Ugh. Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sick alright. Shouldn’t be gone for more’n a coupl’a days, though. Just didn’t want you to break my windows again out of concern.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Hank,” Connor replied. “In that case, I hope you feel better soon. I shall stop by tonight and pick up some medicine for you.”

Hank grumbled something about ‘overprotective android children’ and said aloud, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get back to work, Connor.”

Before Connor could reply, the surly Lieutenant had hung up. Connor put his phone down with a smile. Talking to his surrogate father always made him feel better.

As Connor turned back to his terminal, he caught sight of the abandoned cup on his desk, still steaming gently. He frowned. It would be a shame to waste it. He allowed his visual processors to scan the room. It was a quiet day; the only other humans in the office were Officer Miller and Detective Reed, the latter of whom was currently glaring at his terminal with his legs propped up on his desk, looking very unapproachable indeed. However, Connor knew Officer Miller preferred tea, which only left one other option.

Detective Reed had refused coffee twice already when Connor had offered. Probability of success? Close to 32%.

Connor got up and walked over anyway.

The other detective glanced up and scowled at Connor upon his approach. “Whaddya want, plastic?” he snarked, removing his feet from his desk and sitting up straighter.

“Detective Reed,” Connor greeted cordially, despite his irritation at the detective’s continued aggression. Something about his surliness and his general mysterious attitude managed to both intrigue and irk Connor. He wanted to know more about Reed, but at the same time he dreaded their harsh interactions. Additionally, the detective was one of the only people in the precinct who was able to provoke any kind of angry reaction from him. “I got this for Lieutenant Anderson, but as it turns out, he is ill and not coming to work today. I was wondering if you would like to have it?”

Detective Reed’s scowl only grew more prominent. “If I wanted a fucking coffee I wouldn’t have asked a plastic prick like _you_ ,” he said scathingly. “Go drink it yourself, dipshit.”

Connor frowned, but decided that bringing up his inability to eat or drink would only escalate the situation. So he muttered something along the lines of “Very well, detective,” and marched over to the break room so he could empty the coffee down the sink. Unbeknownst to him, Detective Reed’s eyes trailed after him consideringly, his unpleasant expression softening into a confused one as he watched Connor throw the cup away.

 

* * *

4:

Connor looked up from his hands, quickly pocketing his coin with a guilty expression as Hank put a cup of coffee down in front of him.

The lieutenant huffed out what could have been a laugh, if he hadn’t been so tired. It was a Monday morning, okay?

“Slacking off already, Connor?”

Connor sat up, a smile tugging at his lips. “On the contrary, I was honing my reflexes. I have already completed the paperwork assigned to me, considering I arrived here over an hour ago. I simply have nothing better to do. In any case, I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to return to work today.”

Hank grunted, walking over to his desk and taking a seat. “Honing your reflexes, my ass. You can admit you were bored. Anyways, drink up, I got it for you. For, y’know. Dropping in when I was under the weather.”

“It was a pleasure to, Hank,” Connor replied with a genuine smile. However, his expression quickly changed to concern. “I cannot consume liquids, though. I was not designed in such a way and the recent updates have not addressed this issue as of now.”

Hank paused in booting up his terminal as the words registered. “Ah… shit. Sorry, Connor. Guess I forgot.”

Connor smiled again, back to his usual cheery mood. “That’s quite alright, Hank. As you so often say, it’s the thought that counts.”

Before he could continue the conversation, the door to Captain Fowler’s office opened and Hank’s name was shouted across the precinct. Hank rolled his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m fucking coming!” he retorted, before heaving himself up and trudging toward certain wrath. Not that he couldn’t give as good as he got.

“Good luck, Hank,” Connor called after him.

Hank waved him off over his shoulder. “Smartass,” he shot back.

Connor looked back down at the coffee sitting at his table. He experienced a strange sensation that he had been informed was called déjà vu. He looked over at Detective Reed, who was currently typing something up on his terminal. Connor wondered if he should even bother.

He decided against it and got up to throw the coffee away. Even after Hank had gone through the trouble of buying it for him, too. Connor felt bad... guilty?

As he walked briskly by Detective Reed’s desk, though, he was stopped by the detective calling after him, “Hold up, tin can.”

Connor turned, confused. “Yes, detective?”

Detective Reed regarded the cup in his hand, seemingly formulating a question. Finally, he huffed and said, “Why don’t you ever drink your own coffee?”

The curiosity and seeming lack of hostility from the other man took Connor by surprise. “Cyberlife did not create me with the function to consume beverages or nourishment, besides the forensic function of sampling evidence in real-time and necessary thirium intake. Not only would I not experience any taste, but it would clog up my thirium pump regulator and cause me to require immediate repair.”

The detective frowned. “But aren’t there those… creepy android kids who can eat shit?”

“They do not eat excrement, detective. However, they are built with an eating function so as to appear more human-like, even though they do not feel any real hunger or thirst. Those are only for certain models, though. As a detective android prototype, such a task was deemed unnecessary for my objectives, and therefore not included in my design.”

Detective Reed rolled his eyes. “I _know_ they don’t actually eat shit, dammit. Fuck. Gimme that.”

Becoming even more confused, Connor did as asked. “Why do you wish to have it?” he asked as he handed it over.

To his surprise, Detective Reed downed its contents in a matter of seconds before returning the now empty cup. “What?” he asked, scowling at Connor’s wide-eyed shock. “You shouldn’t waste perfectly good coffee, plastic.”

Connor blinked. And then he beamed. He concluded that the feeling he was currently experiencing was satisfaction, or perhaps contentment. “Thank you, detective,” he said sincerely.

“I just drank a cup of fucking coffee. Fuck off already,” Detective Reed snapped. Connor detected that the other man’s heart rate had increased and there was a slight heat change in his cheeks, indicating embarrassment as opposed to anger. The detective’s harsh words had no effect on the magnitude of Connor’s happiness.

When Hank returned, he raised an eyebrow at Connor’s downright idiotic grin, noticed the absence of the coffee, and decided not to question it.

 

* * *

5:

Gavin was delirious from fever, sweating buckets, and thinking about Connor.

No, not Connor. The fucking -- the android. That dick. Fuck him. He would not allow his thoughts to wander toward the plastic prick’s unbearable, disgusting, adorable, _attractive_ face. Holy hell.

Gavin groaned wordlessly into his pillow. He hated being sick. He really, really did.

He’d woken up this morning, head pounding, throat dry and sore, and nose stuffed to hell and back. Gavin liked to think he was immune to illness, as it wasn’t often he was incapacitated enough to have to stay at home. Despite what his coworkers might think, he did genuinely like his job and wanted to do his part in keeping Detroit City safe. He wanted to make something of himself. To leave some sort of legacy and to actually matter to someone, regardless of whether or not they were a complete stranger. He wasn’t _just_ in it for the promotions.

Though the promotions were pretty damn satisfying too.

The detective was distracted from his thoughts by the insistent sound of his doorbell buzzing. He really hated his fucking doorbell. Maybe he should replace it with a more pleasant sounding one. The buzzing was just so intrusive and harsh. And it made his headache worse.

All of a sudden, Gavin was aware of the fact that besides calling in sick, he had not moved upon waking. As a result, it was currently four in the afternoon and he hadn’t eaten anything and the water bottle he kept on his nightstand had long since been emptied.

… Yeah, Gavin wasn’t the healthiest person around. So what?

Once again, the doorbell was buzzed. “Shut the FUCK up!” he shouted, hoping whoever the hell it was would just go away and that his neighbours wouldn’t mind the shouting. It was the middle of the afternoon anyway, his neighbours could just deal with it. The doorbell kept buzzing, cheerfully ignorant of the detective’s frayed nerves.

Dammit.

With a great deal of graceful flailing, Gavin wrestled his blankets away from himself and quite literally rolled out of bed. The doorbell was still buzzing.

“FUCK OFF,” Gavin bellowed in response, wrapping a blanket around himself. It was fucking cold, okay? Stumbling, he made his way to the front door. He yanked it open and screamed, “SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKING ASSHOLE!” right into Connor’s surprised face.

There was a beat of surprised silence on both ends, Connor regarding the detective’s dishevelled and wild-eyed form while Gavin blinked at what he thought was a hallucination.

Gavin moved to shut the door, muttering, “I’m going insane.”

In a fit of desperation, Connor used his considerably superior strength to shove the door open fully, nearly knocking Gavin flat on his ass. Gavin squinted at the perceived hallucination who was currently shuffling uncertainly in his doorway. Then he turned, walked down the hallway to his bedroom, and got the fuck back to sleep.

 ~~~~~

When Gavin woke again, he was feeling marginally less like he wanted to bash his head in until the pounding stopped. He yawned and glanced at his clock. Damn, it was already half-past seven. He’d slept the entire day away without eating or drinking. That was probably unhealthy.

After several minutes, he managed to get out of bed. Gavin walked into the kitchen, where he was greeted with a bowl of soup on his kitchen table and a pot of the same soup sitting on top of his stove. What the hell?

Confused, Gavin noted that there was also a mug of hot coffee next to the bowl. It had a sticky note on it. The note read, in perfect Cyberlife sans font:

> _Good evening, Detective Reed. I dropped by your house to make sure you were alright. Captain Fowler told me you were likely sick, but I still found it concerning that all that was said when you called in was incoherent mumbling and cursing. I thought it prudent to ensure your wellbeing after getting out of work. I made chicken soup with the ingredients in your fridge -- I apologize if that was overstepping any boundaries. I sincerely hope your health improves in the near future._
> 
> _\- Connor_

First of all, how the hell had the android managed to fit all of that onto one sticky note? Second of all, Connor showing up at his front door _hadn’t_ been a hallucination?!

“Fucking androids,” Gavin muttered, downing half the mug and ignoring the warm fuzzy feeling blooming in his chest. He was a manly man, he didn’t have warm, fuzzy, _gay_ feelings for an android who was out to steal his job. _He didn’t_.

… When had he gotten this bad at lying to himself, again?

 

* * *

+1:

Gavin was decidedly _not_ sweating violently, and his hands were _not_ shaking, and he was _not_ nervous. Not in the least.

All of those things were lies.

“It’s cool,” he mumbled to himself, walking briskly toward the entrance of the DPD Central Station. “Just get it over with. Be cool. Don’t be an ass. Just. Fuck. Fuck everything, fuck my life, how the hell did this happen to me?!”

A woman pushing a stroller gave him a strange look before deciding he was probably insane and getting her child out of his immediate vicinity.

Gavin paused and glanced around self-consciously as he reached the entrance. Nobody he knew was around, which was why he’d come to the precinct earlier than usual. He took a deep breath before exhaling. “You got this,” he muttered, before pushing the doors and stepping through.

He pointedly directed his gaze at the ground, in the process catching sight of the cup of coffee sloshing in his trembling hands. There was no way to do this without humiliating himself, but there was no way to not do it and not look like an ass, either. To be fair, he _was_ an ass, he just. Was trying harder to not be one.

Case in point, Gavin bringing his android coworker coffee after the news of the recent update. Androids had been offered the opportunity to get a hardware update that allowed them to perform human functions like eating and drinking. Since he had been sick for a while, Gavin could only hope that Connor had received the update while he had been out of commission.

Now, despite what certain people might have thought, Gavin wasn’t a _complete_ idiot, and recently, he had been keeping track of the latest android news. It definitely wasn’t because he had developed a crush on Connor and wanted to be able to understand and sympathize with what he was going through, or because he was worried about whether or not one of that fucker Elijah’s updates would somehow cock up this entire deviant feeling emotions shit (Gavin personally thought that Elijah was responsible for the entire androids-coming-to-life fiasco, and he wouldn’t put it beyond that dick to try and reverse it in some fit of holier-than-thou God complex. He was just that much of an asshole. Gavin would know). No, Gavin simply wanted to know because. Because. Okay, well the reason wasn’t that important anyway, was it?!

So focused was he on the ground and his semi-panicked thoughts that he rounded the corner and slammed into a taller body, promptly dropping his precious cargo and spilling it all over -- Connor.

Well.

Shit.

Gavin stared up at Connor with a mortified expression. That was that, he’d screwed it up. A simple-ass coffee run, and somehow he’d made a dick of himself before anything had even happened.

Connor smiled pleasantly, despite the quickly growing coffee-stain on his Cyberlife-issued dress shirt and jacket. “Ah, good morning detective. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered sufficiently.”

His mind completely blank and struggling for any coherent thought, Gavin was about to apologize. Or beg for mercy. Or laugh it off and pretend he’d done it on purpose. He was probably going to do the latter and drive Connor further away and make even more of an ass of himself why did he always have to put his fucking foot in his mouth _dammit_ \--

“That coffee was for you, dipshit,” was what came out instead.

Gavin felt his face heat up. _Please_ for the love of all things good, _please_ let him not be blushing right now.

The polite smile dropped from Connor’s lips and his mouth shut with an audible click. The two regarded each other, one dripping with still hot coffee, the other turning bright red against his will.

Finally, Connor resumed smiling, only this time it was… warmer. Softer?

Gavin was so fucked.

“It’s quite alright, detective. You could make it up to me. There is a cafe two blocks down. Would you like to spend the lunch break there?”

“I -- what?” This was not happening.

Connor’s smile seemed to grow at that, impossibly. “Would you like to go out with me, Detective Reed?”

Gavin’s mouth was moving before he was even aware that he was going to say something.

“It’s Gavin, dipshit.”

Now the asshole was smiling so much his eyes were crinkling and _that should be illegal in all the states_.

“It’s Connor, Gavin. Shall I take that as an affirmative response?”

Once again, Gavin’s face flushed red. “Go fucking clean yourself up,” he growled, walking around Connor to get to his desk. “I’ll see you at lunch.” Gavin paused, looking over his shoulder. “Connor.”

Fucking androids.

**Author's Note:**

> I barely ever write anything romantic and I haven't written creatively in like a year period, so uhm the flow is really weird and there are for sure mistakes that I missed when editing. Sorry if I butchered it really badly? Characterizations were weird. I think I accidentally made Connor a smooth motherfucker oops.
> 
> I hate this ship so much it gives me so many ideas and so much inspiration to write it's beautiful. I was really happy when I came on here and there were fics??? Thank goodness I wasn't the only one who saw it heh.


End file.
